


Bleeding Stag

by VenomQuill



Series: Gravity Trails [1]
Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Gen, Gravity Trails AU, legend of the white stag, set in 1960-something
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-29
Updated: 2017-10-29
Packaged: 2019-01-25 06:09:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12524768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VenomQuill/pseuds/VenomQuill
Summary: Two boys wander the beach every day looking for adventure. What happens when they actually find it?





	Bleeding Stag

**Author's Note:**

> Find it on dA: http://fav.me/dbs1ptq  
> The temporarily main info place: https://venomquill.deviantart.com/journal/Gravity-Falls-AU-Gravity-Trails-712236665

Stanley and Stanford ran over the beach, their shoes throwing sand back and their laughter flowing through the salty wind. Stanford started to fall behind. “Wait up!”

“Keep up!” Stanley called back, concentrating on the beach ahead as if they had a destination.

Eventually, Stanford got too tired to run. Stanley slowed down, too. He slowed his run to a stroll and picked up a stick. “So, what do you think we’ll find this time?”

Stanford straightened himself out and walked next to him. “I don’t know! We’ve never gone so far into the beach before. There could be anything!”

“Maybe we’ll find pirates and hidden treasure!” Stanley gasped, his grin getting wider. “You think we’ll find buried treasure?”

“We’ll have to look in the ground, first,” Stanford reminded him. “But… yeah!”

Stanley’s gaze fell upon a log just shy of the tree line. “Race you to that log!” He was off like a bullet.

“Hey, no fair!” Stanford called after him, straining himself in the heat of the chase.

Stanley laughed as he approached the thing. “Got here fi-irst!” Stanley skidded to a halt, throwing up sand as he went. He stared at something on the other side of the log.

Stanford lost his smile and arrived by his brother’s side. “What is it?” He peered over the log and sucked in his breath. Just a foot away was the largest deer they’d ever seen- in books, TV shows or movies, that is. He was a brilliant, striking white. His hard muscles were slack and his legs were sprawled beside him. Their gaze traveled to his head. He was flat on the ground, but his massive antlers tangled in the brush. His breaths wheezed and shuttered as if something was pressing down on him. His back faced them.

“He’s amazing,” Stanford breathed, eyes round in awe.

“What’s wrong with him?” Stanley muttered, catching onto the deer’s wheezing breaths.

“Is he too old, you think?” Stanford prompted.

Stanley shrugged and hopped over the log. “Welp. Time to find out.”

“Stanley!” Stanford hissed, automatically tensing. “You don’t know him! He could be dangerous!”

Stanley scoffed, “I could take him.” He walked around the deer. Stanley froze by his legs. His eyes went round. “He’s bleeding.”

“What?” Stanford hopped the log and ran over to him. The sight was awful. The deer’s chest had been torn through by something large and sharp. Blood streamed down his chest and pooled on the sandy grass below. The deer twitched one of his drooping ears. Otherwise, he did not move. When Stanley started forward, Stanford grabbed his arm. “Wait! What if whatever hurt it is still here?”

Stanley looked about. “Uh… I didn’t hear anyone shoot.”

Stanford stepped back. “Deer don’t live here, Stanley. It was probably imported and it ran away and it got hurt. The people who brought it could get here any second!”

As they began to walk back, the deer struggled to lift its head a few inches off the ground. It looked back at them with eyes the color of the setting sun. It let out a long, loud, aching cry before it collapsed, exhausted, too injured to move.

Stanford’s legs moved with a will of their own. “We have to help him!”

“How?” Stanley shot back. “I don’t think Ma could fix him up!”

“Th-then we’ll do it ourselves.” Stanford nodded and ran around to his wounded chest. Nothing was inside of the wound. It was bleeding, but not that heavily. Disturbing it would only open it more. “O-okay, uh, Stanley! We need a really big blanket or something!”

“Where would we get a blanket?!”

“U-um, try the, uh… Stan o’ War! Take the sail from that.”

“The sail? What? But that’s-” Stanley cut himself off. “Right. Hurt deer. Need to keep him alive.” He darted off.

Stanford shuffled over to the creature’s head. The stag’s eyes were open in slits. They could see his sunny gold eyes, shimmering in soft orange and pink Stanford could only see if he concentrated on them. Stanford set his hand on the creature’s neck. The stag huffed. His heavy, warm breath rushed over Stanford’s knee and his other arm. “Can you, uh, hear me? I’m Stanford and that was my brother Stanley. We’re going to, uh, fix you up.”

The stag slowly looked up at Stanford. A tiny wheeze escaped his lips and his eyes closed.

Stanford gasped. “O-oh no! Oh no!”

Stanley came back, the ratty sail from their boat in his hands. “Got it!”

“Good! Hurry!” Stanford jumped to his feet and took the cloth. He threw it over the deer’s massive shoulder. “Okay, uh, try and lift him up a bit. Uh… we’ll need a lever. Okay!” Stanford directed Stanley into getting a rather large branch and a rock to gain enough leverage to push the deer up just enough to slip the cloth under him. Stanford quickly pulled it tight and tied it off. Red blossomed over the white and gray of the fabric. Still, that should stop the bleeding. Even the whiteness of the sail was gray compared to the stag’s vibrant white fur.

Stanley sat down beside his brother. “What do we do now?”

Stanford bit his lip. “Okay, okay. So, we, uh… stopped the bleeding. But he just passed out, so… we should get him something to eat. Yeah! Once he wakes up, he’ll be hungry!”

So, the two left, running off to grab a meal. When they came back for enough water for four people–two of those people being the Stan twins–and an equal amount of food, they sat down near the giant stag again.

Eventually, the creature woke up. He gladly accepted the water and various vegetables they had in the fridge and freezer. Once he’d gotten a good meal in him, he braced himself and started to sit up. His long legs folded underneath of him and he pushed himself to allow him to sit up completely. He shook his head of the leaves and sand that had tangled in his antlers.

For a while, the white stag watched the boys. After coming to some silent conclusion, it stood up. It turned its head, chewed off the ruined cloth, and stamped its hooves. The wound was gone as well as any traces of blood. The boys stared at it in wide-eyed awe.

Then, the stag turned and walked off.

“W-wait!” Stanford hopped to his feet. “Come back!” He ran after the creature. The stag glanced back at them and sped up to a trot and then a bound. He stayed within sight of the boys as they ran, but he was never close enough to touch. As they ran, the boys felt exhaustion in the backs of their minds and in their legs and lungs, but the will to follow kept the feeling at bay.

Finally, the stag burst from the trees and cantered to a halt. It turned around, watching them from the center of a clearing. The far-off rumble of a small town mumbled in the distance.

The boys, too exhausted to keep moving, stumbled to a halt and sat down. Stanford wheezed, “I can’t… run. Stop, please.”

The stag slowly folded his legs underneath of himself and watched as the boys recovered. Eventually, the two leveled out their breathing. Feeling started to return to their aching limbs. Stanford looked up. “What are you?”

“Where are we?” Stanley agreed, looking about the trees. “This doesn’t look like New Jersey…”

Quieter than the wind, the stag got up and walked toward them. It stopped and leaned its head down close enough for both of the boys to touch him. Neither raised a hand. The stag’s breath washed over them like a fresh spring’s breeze. It seemed to answer a question it thought to itself as it straightened back out. It took a few steps back, turned around, and walked to the center of the clearing. It raised one hoof and scored the ground three times. Then, it walked off. As it moved, it dissolved into a white mist that quickly dispersed in the wind.

**Author's Note:**

> Based in the "Gravity Trails" AU that I created. (Never getting over it, btw) This is the short story that sparked it. ;) If you want to know more about it, go here: https://venomquill.deviantart.com/journal/Gravity-Falls-AU-712236665
> 
> In this instance, it's Stan and Ford just after they discover the Stan o' War, years before the science fair incident. The stag leads them to the Mystery Shack- rather, where the Ford's cabin will be in ~13 years, and the Mystery Shack in ~19.


End file.
